


Sleepless Thoughts

by plinys



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:18:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2655116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shireen discusses her thoughts on her mother and Melisandre.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepless Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vana/gifts).



> written for the got_exchange on lj.

“I’m pretty sure they’re sleeping together.”

“Oh, hello, Devan. How are you? Sleeping well? So, sorry to be waking you up at two in the morning with this completely random announcement,” he replies in a very sleepy mock version of her voice, and she would almost feel bad (because- yes it is two in the morning, but really he didn’t have to answer his phone if he wasn’t already up, so she didn’t really feel all that bad.).

“Ten Gold Dragons says I didn’t actually wake you up,” she just replies, a slight smug assurance in her voice which Shireen never seems to be able to manage unless she’s talking to him.

Through the phone she gets a little groan in reply (confirmation of her guess), and the sound of the person on the other end shuffling around, before Devan says, “whose sleeping with who?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

This isn’t the first time they’ve had this discussion, at least she doesn’t think it is- Shireen is certain that she had brought this up the last time they had lunch together, not to this extent, but she had at least brushed up against the topic in a smooth way.

Maybe too smooth.

His pause is a bit too long, but finally he answers, “it’s past midnight, I can’t be held responsible for thought this late or early, whichever it is.”

“Early.”

“Shireen!”

Somebody’s impatient.

She almost feels like pointing that out, but instead she just says, “my mom and Melisandre.”

That gets Devan’s attention, she can’t see his face, but they’ve been friends long enough (since they were in elementary school, back when he used to sleep on her couch or study with her, while they dads talked business in some room) that she can clearly imagine the face he must have to accompany that little noise of surprise. There’s more shuffling before his reply, maybe sitting up in bed, or swirling his desk chair and he’s known to do while thinking (not that Shireen’s paid attention to his habits or anything on purpose- they’ve just been friends long enough that she’s picked up on these sorts of things).

“Wait, the lady from your mom’s creepy religious cult.”

“It’s not _creepy_.”

“The fact that you even had to make that distinction-“

“But yeah, her,” Shireen continues, “I think they’re sleeping together.”

He lets a little whistling noise before asking, “like right now? Can you hear it or-”

She cringes, “oh gods no,” because that was not a mental image that she needed at all.

Technically this conversation had warranted it, but really he didn’t have to bring it up like that. Now she was imaging all sorts of awful things.

“To be clear, there is absolutely not reason that this conversation had to happen at two-“

“I just now realized that they were- are- have to be ,” she pauses, before adding, “together.”

 Shireen’s never had problems coming up for the words for her thoughts before. Saying them was always struggle, but that because apparently social skills were genetic and her parents being the most socially awkward people in the world produced a daughter with a tendency to be more than slightly introverted and rather shy unless she actually knew the person she was talking to. Yet right now, with somebody that she should have been able to have such an easy conversation with she was fumbling over her words.

She just hoped that had something more to do with the subject matter, rather than the fact that she might have had the tiniest bit of a crush on her best friend.

“And that’s a bad thing,” Devan asks.

And no, she supposes that it really wasn’t.

It’s not like she hadn’t seen this coming, or at least hadn’t been aware that it was a possibility.

Her dad was seeing somebody (the fact that that was her best friend’s dad was another matter entirely) and she had been happy about that- happy that her divorced parents were able to move on and find other people that made them happy.

Really the realization that she didn’t feel that same rush of joy upon discovering that her mother was most likely in a relationship was somebody was a bit _odd._

And it wasn’t like she _disliked_ Melisandre, the other woman was nice, she’d taken Shireen out for ice cream one day when her mother had worked late and couldn’t make it in time to pick her up from Lit Club. She had even bought Shireen some of those books that made her father frown and insist she was too young to be reading them (she was nearly _sixteen_ and most definitely not _too young_ ). There was no reason for her to dislike Melisandre or to be upset that she and her mother were engaging in any sort of relations (scaring mental picture aside).

Plus she made her mother happy which really was the important thing, right?

Her mother had never been the type that smiled, and when her parents had been married she most certainly never had, but just earlier today when she had seen them talking in the kitchen her mother had been smiling, not widely, but there had been an upward tilt to her lips that had been missing for quite some time.

She wonders if maybe she had been silent to long when Devan speaks up again, his voice echoing over the phone line, “Shireen?”

“Sorry, I was thinking,” she answers quickly, glad he can’t see her because she can feel her ears burning and no doubt her one unscarred cheek is bright red to match them.

“And the verdict is?”

“No,” she answers, her voice steadier than it has been all night, “no, it’s not a bad thing.”

“Great,” Devan draws out the word so that it’s nearly five syllables longer than it needs to be, “well, as fun as this was helping you come to the realization that you’re okay with your mom dating somebody, it is now _three_ in the morning and we have class tomorrow and my homework is apparently not getting done tonight so-“

“Right, sorry, go to sleep,” Shireen says quickly, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

He makes a noise that sounds something like goodnight and goodbye at the same time, and mumbles, “I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait- Devan, quickly before you go.”

“Yes?”

“Would it be weird to mention at breakfast tomorrow that I’m okay with them sleeping together?”

 


End file.
